LOLLY WILLOWES
Tito is so impracticable. A regular artist," etc.
The helpless artist had arrived, and immediately upon his arrival walked out to buy beer and raspberries. Sibyl might feel perfectly reconciled. No cat could jump into the most comfortable armchair more unerringly than Titus. "Such a nice young gentleman," said Mrs. Garland, smoothing his pyjamas with a voluptuous hand. "Such a nice young gentleman," said Miss Carloe, rubbing her finger over the milling of the new florin she received for the raspberries. "Such a nice young gentleman," said Mrs. Trumpet at the shop, and Mrs. Ward at the Lamb and Flag. All the white-aproned laps opened to dandle him. The infant Bacchus walked down the village street with his beer and his raspberries, bowing graciously to all Laura's acquaintances. That evening he supped with her and talked about Fuseli. Fuseli—pronounced Foozley—was a neglected figure of the utmost importance. The pictures, of course, didn't matter: Titus supposed there were some at the Tate. It was Fuseli the man, Fuseli the sign of his times, etc., that Titus was going to write about. It had been the ambition of his life to write a
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